


cledonism

by sabinelagrande



Category: Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: Background Alex Horne/Rachel Horne, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, First Time, Kneeling, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Touch-Averse Alex Horne (British Comedy RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:02:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29541381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: Greg doesn't know he's made an error in judgment. He makes several much better judgments afterwards.
Relationships: Greg Davies/Alex Horne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	cledonism

**Author's Note:**

> Power's out, and my laptop is my most expendable device, so why not?

The strangest part is that it happens at the Taskmaster House.

Alex wants to update the little interstitial bits of the two of them walking around the place, which makes sense considering the last time they did it. Greg's not getting any younger, but he is vain enough to think he looks better in his current incarnation, so he's okay with it. It's basically a day dicking around with a camera, trying to look weird on purpose, so it's actually kind of fun.

Alex and Greg have been abandoned in the library; there's been some vague talk about some shots they need to get after dark, and some vaguer talk that someone's going to bring them some food, though it has yet to have happened. Greg actually is hungry, but it makes him look like a stereotype when he says things like that. He'd send Alex, but it would be to absolutely no avail. Alex cannot be trusted to make a direct request for his own good, but that's not a surprise.

Instead, Greg is leaning back against the wall while Alex sits on the couch. Someone's left a guitar in here, because there are always inexplicable stringed instruments at the house. It was almost in tune, enough so that it was no problem to fix it, and Greg is strumming it sort of idly. He's not fantastically skilled, and it's missing a voice to go with it; it's just that serenading Alex feels odd, and he's only dicking around with chords.

He is entirely counting out Alex singing.

The door opens, and one of the PAs sticks her head in. "Give us fifteen more minutes," she says. "We'll collect you then."

She bobs out before Greg can get any more information. "Aren't you supposed to have more say in this than me?" Greg asks.

"Not really," Alex says. "None of this really has to do with me. This is cinematography stuff."

"'Cinematography' is a bit of a grand word for this show," Greg says.

"I've betrayed you again by being secretly middle class," Alex says.

"What's amazing is that you think it's a secret," Greg says, taking one hand off the guitar and holding it by the neck.

"I don't," Alex says. "I just hope people are good enough not to mention it."

Greg laughs. He walks over, putting the guitar back where he found it, beside the couch on the side nearest the door. "Why are there always so many stringed instruments around here, anyway?"

"It's mostly ukuleles," Alex says. "People find ukuleles funny."

"One ukulele is funny, a hundred ukuleles is a hundred times as funny?" Greg offers.

"Also, you can buy them in five-packs," Alex says.

"Now _that_ is hilarious," Greg says.

And afterwards, and really, at the time, he will not know why he does it. Nothing is charged about any of it, just the two of them talking about nothing in a break. Maybe that in itself is why; it's so easy with the two of them, so natural, and it always has been. It seems like it's always existed in potentia, a thing that makes perfect sense and is bound to happen someday.

But Greg is standing quite close to Alex now, and Alex is looking up at him, and Greg just bends down to kiss him.

Alex moves out of the way.

Greg snaps in half, and he absolutely cannot let Alex know. "Sorry," he says, taking a big step backwards, as far as he can get out of Alex's personal bubble. "I got the wrong idea. Won't happen again."

"You didn't get the wrong idea," Alex says quickly. He frowns. "Well, you did in the small strokes, but the broader idea is fine."

"I really don't have the first clue what you're talking about," Greg says, choosing the safer option, despair, over hope that he didn't just fuck up his life.

"I do want to, with you," Alex says, rubbing his forehead. "But, uh, there's a complicating factor."

"Rachel?" Greg says, and he's going to feel like dogshit if it's that, even though it's very rational and he should have checked- or better, not done it.

"No," Alex says easily. "When she and I make jokes about, you know-"

Greg does know. They do make reference to the idea that one or both of them is or should be sleeping with Greg, a running joke that's growing more elaborate. Alex does that thing where he deadpans it into the middle of a conversation, which always makes Greg laugh until he turns bright pink; Rachel is sweet but so sly, and Greg really likes it.

"I _knew_ you weren't kidding," Greg says.

"There may have been some exaggeration," Alex says carefully.

"I assumed," Greg says. Sometimes it had sounded a little overambitious. He's only one man.

"Anyway, she already knows," Alex says. "The problem is more, um, personal? Or maybe it's better to say that it lies with me? I- please believe me that I do really want to do this, but-"

While Alex is spiraling, Greg is trying to slot the pieces together, gather up everything and sift out the dross. He feels like he already knows, but he can't quite get there.

"You really don't like being touched," Greg says, when it clicks into place.

Alex looks miserable, and Greg hates it. "Sorry, it's just-"

"Don't apologize," Greg says, frustrated with himself. "I should be the one apologizing. I'm always putting my hands on you."

"You mostly just touch my arms," Alex says. "That's not a problem, honestly."

"I've kissed you," Greg insists.

"Twice," Alex says dismissively.

Greg raises an eyebrow. "It was more than twice."

"Less than five, and there wasn't any tongue," Alex says. "I can sometimes handle it from people I really care about. I think so far I've hidden it from the children, and Rachel and I sleep in the same bed and everything."

"I think at least three times you did something else in bed," Greg says.

"It's not an absolute thing," Alex protests. "I just don't like to feel trapped."

"If you feel trapped with Rachel, I'm right out," Greg says. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry, I'm being an ass, aren't I?"

"A little," Alex says, which hurts but is justified.

"If you really want-" Greg stops, trying to be the lowest level of an ass he can be. "How do you see this going, exactly? I'm genuinely asking."

"With Rachel, I, um," Alex says, and he's starting to turn red. "Do the things that you can do without touching much?"

"Oral," Greg says, more for shock value than anything, hoping Alex will loosen up a little.

"That's kind of the top end of what I can handle?" Alex says, and he hastens to add, "But I do enjoy it very much, when I do it. But I, ah, don't like to receive."

"Huh," Greg says, trying to piece it together. "So what do you want for yourself?"

"I like to be watched," Alex says, fully as red as a cherry. "I like it even better when I'm told what to do."

"Oh," Greg says.

Alex winces. "Sorry-"

"What did I tell you about apologizing?" Greg says. "That was just the sound I make when all the blood in my body rushes to my dick."

"Oh," Alex says, both his eyebrows going up.

"See?" Greg says. "So this- other than the actual kiss itself, it's fine?"

"Yes," Alex says. "I don't know why it didn't happen before now."

"I have had that thought, yeah," Greg says. He looks about. "Let's get a little more detailed when we're not basically on set."

Alex looks a little annoyed with himself. "That's probably for the best," he says.

"Where were you going after this?" Greg asks, realizing a half a second too late that he put it in the past tense.

"I'm crashing with Key, actually, didn't want to get all the way home just to wake the boys up," Alex says. He gives Greg a keen look. "Did you have an idea about that?"

"I think you know exactly the idea I had," Greg says. "I get it if you need to talk to Rachel or we need to talk about, I don't know, boundaries-"

"We can cover boundaries pretty quickly and five minutes on the phone with Rachel is all I need," Alex says. "Assuming, you know, she doesn't just say no automatically, in which case the answer is, well, no."

"Of course," Greg says, a little shocked that this is all coming together, even though he put it in motion. "We'll finish up here and-"

Both of them startle when the door opens, the same PA standing there. She looks a little confused at how the two of them react, but she isn't dissuaded. "We're set up for some outdoor stuff, and the food's here in thirty," she says. "Are you ready to go?"

"I just show up and wear a suit imposingly," Greg tells her. "I'm always ready."

It has the desired effect; she laughs and thinks nothing else of how the two of them are acting. They do some stuff with the caravan and Alex climbing onto the roof and Greg chasing Alex like a horror movie villain, fun and ultimately kind of fluffy and stupid, which was the whole point.

After they wrap, Greg changes out of his suit and gives it to the crew; the Taskmaster suit was, as he has been informed and does not doubt, extremely expensive, and they don't like him running off with it. He loses track of Alex for a bit, but Alex reappears, wearing jeans and a jumper that's far too big for him. This is Alex's general uniform; this one has a robin on it. Like many things with Alex, Greg truly cannot tell if it's an affectation or just what Alex is like.

Alex has a bag over one shoulder, such as one might use for an overnight visit, and it makes everything feel much more real. "I've got my car," Alex says. "Did you-"

"If you're offering, I'll take the ride," Greg says. He didn't mean for it to be suggestive, but Alex heard it that way, which is very funny.

They successfully extract themselves and head towards Greg's flat. It's an odd situation; there is every expectation in the world that they are going there to have some manner of sex, or at least make plans to have sex. With someone else, Greg would be doing some cheeky groping, or saying something on the subject, but that's not how this is working. Greg really doesn't know how it's supposed to work.

"We never did get any food," Alex says suddenly.

"Fuckin' hell," Greg says. "No, we didn't."

"What do you want?" Alex asks.

"Literally anything," Greg says.

"You don't actually mean that," Alex says, because sometimes he likes to judge Greg for doing things like not eating salads or being skeptical of 'healthy' juices with kale in them. Alex does this even though he doesn't like them either.

"Try me," Greg says. "I'd eat a vegan."

"A vegan meal?" Alex says skeptically.

"No," Greg says. "A whole vegan. Cooked rare."

It's better, it's easier, it breaks up the tension. Alex and Greg are not two people on a mission; they're people who enjoy each other's company and know each other well enough to bicker over what to eat. It makes Greg feel like he can breathe a little easier. He wants this to happen, but that doesn't make it easy or free of pitfalls.

They end up at Greg's, finally, kebabs in tow, and almost immediately inhale them. Greg didn't realize how much of being on edge was just being whatever the anxiety equivalent of hangry is. He feels worlds better, and he can see it on Alex too, the way his shoulders are less drawn. All of this seems more likely now, even though Greg knows it's going to be different, if it happens at all.

Alex insists on cleaning up, and then they're in the living room. There's a big chair sitting at one end; Greg hates this chair, because while it's sized for him, it's sticky in the summer and chilly in the winter, and he can't throw his leg over the arm and sit in the manner of his people. Greg is sitting in it presently because he knows how intimidating he looks. It makes him look powerful, cold. Alex, of all people, knows he isn't like that, not really, but he's going for an effect. He has some suspicions as to how this is going to shake out.

They talk for a while. It's not sexual as such. Greg can feel the anticipation, but it's not what they're talking about. He should probably be asking more about the touch thing, but his whole plan right now is to not touch until he's told. He thinks he can probably handle that.

"What do you do for foreplay?" Greg says. He says it out of the blue on purpose, for reasons that are his own.

"Come again?" Alex says, his eyebrows lifted.

"Let's not get too ambitious," Greg says. "I haven't come the first time." Alex rolls his eyes. "If you're not touching or kissing, how do you-" He makes a hand motion that is simple, yet unnecessarily illustrative. "Get aroused."

"Oh, um," Alex says, looking surprised. "Pornography works, but it's not usually very romantic, and the romantic stuff is not very hot." He stops, giving Greg an unamused look. "You're going to make fun of me."

"You don't know that," Greg says.

"Don't make fun of me," Alex says firmly. "This is a sweet thing that my wife does for me that I enjoy and think is very kind."

"Then I won't make fun of you," Greg promises.

"Talking is very good," Alex says haltingly, "so sometimes Rachel reads to me."

Greg was not expecting that one. "Like, the dirty kind of literature?"

"Yes," Alex says. "I don't care to get into the actual sources, but she'll read me appropriate selections."

"You mean inappropriate selections," Greg says.

"That too," Alex says. "But it lets me know she cares, and hearing her talk like that is-" He lets out a breath. "Extremely good."

Greg regards him curiously. "Would that work for me, do you think?"

"Could you take it seriously?" Alex asks.

"That's a very good question, one I would rather not find out the answer to is no halfway through trying to do it," Greg says, and Alex looks thoughtful. "I bet I could improvise."

"How do you mean?" Alex says.

"This may come as a shock to you, even though it shouldn't, but I can talk dirty with the best of them," Greg says. He looks Alex up and down. "It just depends on how you want it."

"How so?" Alex asks, and Greg can tell he's already got his interest.

"There's a lot of ways you can make someone forget their own name," Greg says, like it's an academic matter and no more. "Some people get hot and bothered just by hearing the bare facts about what's going to happen. Some people like to be told they're filthy for doing it, or worthless for doing it, or good for doing it."

"Despite how it seems sometimes, I don't actually like to be humiliated in bed," Alex says.

"Sure you wouldn't like to try?" Greg teases. "Because I'm particularly good at that one."

Alex sighs. "Believe me when I say that I know."

"It's so hard to figure," Greg says, looking dead at him, appraising him. "I think you genuinely do like it when I praise you, even when it's just supposed to be acting. It makes you feel a little flustered, doesn't it? Like you're so happy that you earned it and you weren't expecting it at all." 

Alex swallows visibly; that would be enough for him, only it's not enough for Greg, not at all. Alex could be perfectly happy with being called good and sent to bed, but Greg's not going to be satisfied unless he digs underneath it. Greg, far more than he admits to anyone, wants to hit people where they live, find their vulnerabilities and press on them until they lose control.

"But it could go in an entirely different direction," Greg says, and Alex frowns. "You see, most of the people who like to be told they're sluts are not particularly promiscuous people. Maybe they have a good life with happy kids and a pretty wife, and they just want to play pretend for a while, even if maybe on the inside they wish everybody could see them stripped."

"You are good at this," Alex says, trying to get his own back, hide the fact he's about to melt into a puddle at any moment.

"Spoken like a good little slut," Greg says, because he's not having that. Alex breathes in sharply, like Greg thought might be the case, and Greg smirks. "That's right. I just had to figure you out, didn't I?" He leans forward. "You can have whatever you like. All you have to do is admit that you want to take it."

There's something incredibly charged about it, even though they're several feet apart, still fully clothed. Greg's not going to move, because it'll be better if he doesn't, hotter if Alex does it himself. Maybe that's cruel, but most people are not interested in Greg being nice.

"Well, are you or aren't you?" Greg says, raising an eyebrow.

He can see Alex's resolve break. "Can I-" he starts. He looks apologetic. "It's better for me if I do for you first."

"That's what I expected," Greg says; it'll probably stop Alex from bolting as soon as he finishes. "Do you want to go to the bedroom?"

Alex looks him over with naked want in his face. "You look really good just like that, if I'm honest."

"Then come here," Greg says, spreading his legs wide, and Alex hastens to do it, dropping to his knees in front of him. "Can I touch you?"

"Just my shoulders," Alex says.

"Not a problem," Greg says, because he can hear that the answer Alex actually wanted to give was 'no.'

Alex makes no move to touch him, just waits, and Greg honestly doesn't know whether he's expecting instructions or just doesn't want to feel Greg up. Greg takes matters literally into his own hands, not willing to let this stall out; he puts his hand over his cock through his jeans, rubbing slowly along the length of it. This has got him hotter than he expected, and he's basically fully ready to go.

"Look what you did," Greg says disapprovingly. "You got me all worked up like a proper slut. I hope you're ready to make good on it."

"Yes," Alex says. "Yes, please."

"You're willing to beg me for it now?" Greg says, raising an eyebrow. "That was quick."

Alex looks bashful, looking up into Greg's eyes instead of following the motion of his hand. "You said I could have what I wanted."

Greg groans, the whole thing too much. "Alright, then," he says, undoing his fly. "Do you want to suck my cock?"

"Yes, please," Alex says. He's watching raptly as Greg frees his cock from his jeans, his hands resting in his lap. He's fidgeting, and Greg wonders if he can even feel how he's humping the air slowly.

"Well?" Greg says, not giving any further assistance.

Alex kneels up; he takes Greg's cock in his hand just long enough to properly get his mouth around it, then he puts his hands on his thighs. That doesn't mean he's holding back. He's working his head as he sucks, messier than Greg anticipated. He's obviously done this before, and it's clear that he likes it; he's making muffled noises, like he needs this too much to act like he doesn't.

"Good boy," Greg says, and Alex chokes. Greg honestly doesn't know why; he's about to stop and check in, but Alex sucks harder, moving faster. "That's a good slut," Greg says, needing to push it, now that it seems that Alex likes it.

Alex is doing an amazing job, and the urge to touch him is overwhelming; Greg wants more than anything to grab him by the back of the head and just fuck his mouth until he's satisfied. He's not going to, because he feels like he's being given something, allowed it as long as he treats it well. If all he has to touch Alex with is his words, then that's what he'll do.

"Do you like doing that for me?" Greg asks, and even though he meant it rhetorically, Alex nods. "That's for the best, because I'm going to make you my slut."

Alex moans loudly, and Greg bites his lip at the feeling of it, the vibration of Alex's voice. Alex pulls off of him suddenly, taking a few deep, ragged breaths; before Greg can ask, Alex is already swallowing him down again.

"Faster," Greg says, because he's really worked up by now. "I don't know if that was too much for you to handle or exactly enough, but I know you're not going to stop me." Alex makes a desperate noise, sucking harder, and Greg moans. "That's it, slut. You're not finished until you make me come, so stop stalling."

Alex gives it everything he has, going after Greg with a singleminded focus. Greg is saying things and doesn't really know what they are, but the content is obvious. He's too caught up in the feeling of Alex's mouth, the way he meets Greg as Greg rocks his hips up.

"That's it," Greg says breathlessly. "That's it, give me more my little slut, Christ, I'm-"

Greg's babbling is cut off when he starts to come. Alex doesn't move away, so Greg comes down his throat, emptying himself into Alex's mouth. It's so satisfying he thinks he might melt, just turn into a puddle with the heat of it. He just keeps coming, and Alex milks him dry, taking every last drop.

Alex finally pulls away, and Greg sits back in his chair, recovering. Alex is making a face, and it takes Greg a moment to understand why. He grabs a tissue from the end table, passing it to Alex, who spits into it immediately before wiping his chin. In another situation he'd tease, challenge, poke, but this is different. If that's what Alex needs to do, Greg's not going to mock him for it.

Greg waits a moment before he speaks, both admiring the sight of Alex and letting him twist. "This is the point where I say you deserve a reward, isn't it?" Greg says. "Too bad it doesn't work that way."

Alex looks puzzled, suspicious. "It doesn't?"

"I told you you could have what you want," Greg says. "But it's much more important what I want."

Alex swallows hard. "Yes," he says, in a small voice, sending a thrill up Greg's spine.

"Lucky for you, what I want most right now is to watch you get yourself off," Greg says. "Show me how much it turned you on to suck my cock."

"How would you like me?" Alex asks, looking so eager.

"I like the idea of you staying just like that," Greg says. "Would you do that for me?" Alex nods furiously. "Take off your jumper." Alex does it quickly, then, because he is forever himself, starts to fold it up. Greg snatches it out of his hands, dropping it to the floor next to him. "You don't have time to do laundry. You're busy."

"Sorry," Alex says.

"You're so hard it's probably killing you, isn't it?" Greg asks. "You wish you could take yourself out and have some relief."

Alex bites his lip. "Please."

"We already established you don't need to beg," Greg says. "You've always rolled right over for me, just like a little pup, and I don't expect it to stop now." He leans forward. "Are you just that eager? Want it so much you'll take anything you're given?"

"Yes," Alex says, quiet and desperate.

Greg could make him wait it out, but he just doesn't really want to. "Go on, then," he says. "Show me your cock."

Alex bites his lip; he does it anyway, unzipping his jeans and tugging them down, moving his boxers out of the way. His cock is so hard that it immediately slaps against his abdomen, already leaking precome. He presents quite a picture, wrapper torn off, desperate, wanting.

"You make me wish I was young enough to get hard again right this second," Greg says, which slips out without him thinking about it. It makes Alex blush furiously, so it works out anyway. "Put your hand around your cock."

He sees Alex psych himself up, and his impulse is to reach out and touch. It's hard not to, but it could spoil everything. It's more important to keep going, because he does want this to go well.

But Alex does it, letting out an involuntary little noise as he takes himself in hand. His cock isn't as big as Greg's, but Greg doesn't find that surprising; it looks satisfying anyway. "Doesn't that feel better?" Greg says. "Go on, stroke it for me. You know that's what you want."

Greg can see the effort it's taking Alex not to toss himself off roughly and come as quick as he can. "I wonder what would happen if I made you do this at the studio," he says, and Alex gasps. "You'd have to be as fast as possible. Otherwise anybody might come along and see what a filthy whore you are for me."

Alex is breathing shakily, but he hasn't stopped moving his hand. Greg is caught up in watching him for a while, his cock sliding through his fist smoothly, hand twisting at the end. There's something intoxicating about the fact that Greg has him by a string, could make him do anything he wanted.

"Have you ever had anything inside of you?" Greg asks, and Alex's rhythm stutters.

"No," Alex says, sounding a little wary.

"Well, we'll have to fix that," Greg says. "I'm not going to fuck you," he adds, before Alex can freeze up. "I'm going to make you fuck yourself, and I'm going to watch." Alex gasps. "Because that's how much you want it, isn't it? You're doing this because it turns you on so much you want to jump out of your skin, and you're such a greedy boy that you want more than you can handle." He snorts. "You don't even care what that makes you."

"Oh god," Alex says, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.

"It makes you an easy little slut, and I'm going to wring you dry," Greg says. "I'm going to make you do every nasty thing you've ever dreamed of doing, and you're going to beg for more."

"I'm close," Alex warns, closing his eyes tighter.

"Look at me," Greg says, and Alex's eyes snap open. He manages to look Greg in the face, though he's panting, looking destroyed. "Don't you dare look away from me. I want to see your face when you come for me."

Alex sucks in a breath, and like that he's coming, his mouth hanging open, shaking, falling to pieces in front of Greg's very eyes. It's one of the hottest things Greg's ever seen, knowing that he's the reason, he did that to Alex. He hopes Alex liked it nearly as much, because he can't bear the thought of not seeing it again.

Alex sags when it's over, like he's had his strings cut. "You- you can touch me if you want to," he says softly.

"Where?" Greg asks.

"My head," Alex says, sounding oddly bashful.

Greg hears what Alex is actually asking; he runs his hand over Alex's hair, petting him. Alex sighs, and he rests his cheek against Greg's thigh. Greg strokes his hair idly, keeping his touch gentle, light. They stay that way for a while, Alex recovering, Greg trying to take it all in.

Finally Alex straightens up, looking a little less wrecked. He looks Greg over. "Do you want me to take care of that?" he says, nodding towards Greg.

Greg looks down at himself. He never actually put his dick away, and he's absolutely shocked to see that he's hard again, which is some kind of miracle. "Do you want to?" he asks.

"I thought that's what your s-slut was supposed to do," Alex says. He stuttered on the actual word and Greg shudders to think what his idea of dirty talk is, but he seems completely serious, a little glassy-eyed with how much he wants it.

"Then get to work," Greg says. It's not going to matter with his mouth full.


End file.
